In his defense, Cole did try to get some sleep before the inevitable body-burying had to occur, but at best he only managed about an hour or two. His mind wouldn't stop going long enough for him to relax, and eventually he just gave up and pumped himself full of caffeine instead. He would do it because he had to, not because he wanted to, and even though he was running on fumes he knew he'd have the energy. People could do remarkable things when pushed far enough.
He took the stairs down to the first floor, thinking about Trenton's death on the way down. There was a numbness that hadn't faded yet, and beneath that was a mixture of guilt and pity that he really didn't want to deal with. He hadn't liked the guy by any means, and he knew he'd killed Aaron and raped Boyd, but that still didn't mean he wanted him dead. No one deserved to go like that, and the fact that he'd killed himself... just like his guilt over Jude's death, it was something that could never fully disappear. It would always remain with him in some form or another.
He paused outside of 102, raising his hand and knocking four times on the hard wood. The entire thing felt too familiar, late-night trips to an abandoned cemetery to bury another dead body that no one could know about. Somehow he always ended up in the middle of these things, and he'd stopped wondering why. He'd become resigned to his fate. Once the door opened, he didn't even bother attempting a smile. Clad in dark jeans and a black sweatshirt, with dark circles under his eyes, he looked like one of the living dead himself. "Hi." His gaze swept over the part of the apartment he could see, catching sight of bags placed near the door. "I guess we should get going."